


No Degrees

by Blake



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Humor, M/M, Self-deprecating Kirk, Star Trek science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk is great at following the prime directive.  Unless...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Degrees

“Captain,” Sulu says briskly, “It looks like the planet’s surface is destabilizing.”

“Life readings indicate someone point-one miles away from the city’s center. I think it is Mr. Spock!” Chekov announces from the science station.

“Beam him up. Immediately,” Kirk commands, turning his chair to face the view screen, where he can see the green surface of the planet they’re doing botanical research on.

“But sir,” Sulu says, and Kirk hates hearing the word _but_. “He could be within sight of the civilians. If they see him dematerialize--”

“I said beam him up, that’s an order,” Kirk says darkly, his heart racing.

“END SIMULATION.”

Kirk starts, the voice coming loud from the ether and the lights of the simulation room starting to dim. He sighs. Right, the training.

“Captain Kirk.” It’s Admiral Hicks. Of course it’s Admiral Hicks. Kirk rolls his eyes before turning to face the figurative music. “You do realize, do you not, that the reason you have been asked to participate in our updated Prime Directive training program is so that you will actually _complete_ the training?”

“And, what’s my record again?” Kirk dashes him a smile, but it has no effect on his deceivingly soft features.

“This is the twelfth scenario you’ve been through.”

“Ah, I see,” Kirk says matter-of-factly. “And I have yet to succeed in honoring the Prime Directive?”

The Admiral gives him a stern look, not deigning to respond. He’s looking down his nose at Kirk, from where he’s standing by the faux turbo lift doors, merely saying, “Perhaps you need a more rudimentary examination? Perhaps the verbiage of the Prime Directive is not clear to you?”

“Thank you sir,” Kirk says, shifting in his chair, “But I learn much better in practical applications than in theory. Do you have another scenario for me?”

“Yes, but only because we have our top programmers working on it. You ran through all the ones we had prepared.”

“Let’s try that one. Thirteenth time’s a charm.”

He can hear Sulu and Chekov exchanging glances behind him. He likes to think that their exasperation is on his behalf.

“Please, Captain,” Hicks says as he exits through the faux turbo lift. “Keep your mind on your task.”

Kirk nods with sarcastic exaggeration, and swivels his chair back around front.

“He’s right, y’know,” Bones says from Kirk’s right side. He doesn’t need to be there, but somehow, he convinced the program staff that he was a necessary part of the bridge crew. “S’just a simulation, Jim. Give ‘em the answers they want, ‘n they’ll let us go get some shuteye, finally.”

Kirk mutters, far under his breath, “Wish it was that easy.”

The observation mission goes smoothly, everyone blending in and not making themselves known as space travelers, until the Romulan scientists who are also in disguise on the planet suddenly abduct Mr. Spock, and Kirk’s heart stops.

“Shoot them.”

“But Captain--”

“Fire phasers.”

There’s a consensus of a sigh all around the room, and Kirk sets his forehead onto his fingers and tries to rub the frustration away. It’s the stupid test. They figured out his weak spot. It’s a hair trigger reaction; every time they use that one thing against him, his blood scares still and he forgets it’s a simulation. It’s the only time he’s ever cursed his fast reflexes.

“Come on, Jim, you were doing so well that time,” Bones says gruffly from the corner he’s adopted.

Kirk calls for a reset of the simulation before Admiral Hicks can even get a chance to come in and chew him out.

~~

“Sir, a group of civilians has closed in on Mr. Spock. They’re carrying what seem to be… weapons, sir.”

“Beam him up.”

Everyone sighs, and Kirk’s heart unclenches on cue.

~~

“It’s some kind of… force field, sir. I can’t get a reading on the landing party.”

“Beam down a security team.”

“We can’t get a transporter beam to work through the shield. And, sir… I’m getting a signal.” Sulu turns around in his chair, wincing as he says, “It’s the emergency beacon we gave to… Mr. Spock.”

“Lock phasers on the origin of the force field and fire.”

“God damn it, damn it all to hell,” Bones mutters.

~~

“Captain, if we beam up Mr. Spock, the signal will alert the Klingons to the location of the inhabitants.”

Kirk flips the switch on his control panel. “Transporter room, this is the Captain. Beam up Mr. Spock immediately.”

~~

“--Mr. Spock--”

“Fire phasers.”

~~

“--Mr. Spock--”

“Fire photon torpedoes.”

~~

“--Mr. Spock--”

“Transporter room.”

~~

“--Mr. Spock--”

“Security team, report to the transporter room immed-- Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

~~

“Captain,” Sulu says his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. Kirk digs his nails into the thigh he has crossed over the other. If pain won’t keep the fact that this is a test in his mind, he doesn’t know what will.

“Yes, Mr. Sulu.”

“It’s um… It’s Mr. Spock.” His voice goes quiet at the end, and Kirk’s whole body goes tense. Mr. Spock, in danger? “I’m picking up his communicator’s signal, but it’s been open for thirty minutes and hasn’t moved in that time. But there’s a cluster of life readings closing in on the signal-- a large animal, I think, sir.” Sulu turns slowly in his seat and, exaggeratedly, leans in toward Kirk to add, “But they might also be the planet’s civilians. I’m not sure.”

Kirk digs his nails into his thigh, grits his teeth, and tries hard, so hard to keep his blood flowing. _It’s a test_ , he tells himself. _Mr. Spock isn’t on the planet’s surface, because there is no planet’s surface_. He takes three deep breaths, then says, “How close are the life readings?”

Sulu exchanges surprised glances with Mr. Chekov, who speaks up next. “Approximately twenty meters, sir.”

Kirk nods, shifts his teeth so he can chew on the inside of his lip. “I see. Then, we must wait until the life readings pass before we hail Mr. Spock’s communicator.”

Chekov looks at Sulu, who takes back the figurative microphone. “So, stand by, sir?”

Kirk draws his hand over his mouth, physically keeping other responses behind his lips. He’s almost there. He wipes the same hand over his forehead next, where there’s a tense sweat building. “Stand-- by-- Mr. Sulu.”

He gasps in a huge breath, and suddenly, he’s surrounded by applause.

~~

Kirk is making a brisk exit, anxious to get back on his ship and get her headed _away_ from Starbase Four. He’s so distracted by relief, exhaustion, and self-recrimination that as he walks quickly through the simulation control room doorway, he doesn’t see the person standing within it until they collide.

“Spock,” Kirk says. His hands recoil from where they’ve intruded on Spock’s personal space, and withdraw to the safety of his own chest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Mr. Spock is recovering from their collision, too, straightening his shirt and crossing his arms more firmly in front of him. Kirk notices that he refuses to take a step back, as if doing so would admit too much impact. He must have been standing here, small in this corner of the doorway, watching the procedures on the control room screens. Kirk’s face flushes with embarrassment, but he knows how to turn embarrassment around in his favor. “So you came to watch the train wreck,” he says proudly.

Spock merely moves an eyebrow. “If a locomotive played a part in one of the scenarios, it was before I arrived.”

Kirk grunts to himself, and says, “Naturally, Mr. Spock.”

Spock is neither stepping aside nor saying anything. The rest of the crew is slowly filing out on heavy feet through the part of the doorway that Spock isn’t currently standing in. Kirk feels glued to the spot, and uncertain. Only Spock makes him feel uncertain in this particular way; if it wasn’t _Spock_ , would Kirk have stepped around him already? or would be able to tell whether his first officer was planning to explain his presence? There’s silence between them, and Kirk is trying to figure out whether he should ask Spock what he’s here for, or if he should just leave, but it’s difficult to sort out when he’s just had to save Spock’s _simulated_ life two dozen times.

Kirk decides it’s best if he just leaves quietly and transports up to the ship so he can self-deprecate in his quarters, just at the same moment that Spock stops him short with the words, “I came to congratulate you on your completion of the training program.”

Kirk’s body is still in the same state of indecision-- the swift blood, slow mind, itchy lips effect Spock has on him-- but at least he’s a little more clued in to what’s going on. “Someone told you I needed a pat on the back, huh?” he says. It was probably Williams, from the Starbase. He always had an immature sense of humor.

Spock lifts his chin and says, “I was informed that you were having difficulty. I merely wanted to be of assistance, but the Admiral would not permit me to enter the simulation room.”

“I see.” Kirk scratches at his palm, which longs to lay itself onto the flat surface of Spock’s sternum. He’s terrified to hear the answer to the next, obvious, question, but he must ask it. “How much of… a glimpse, of the proceedings, were you fortunate enough to witness?” he asks, putting sarcastic flourish into it so that Spock knows he doesn’t care what Spock thinks of him. Kirk’s great at pretending, especially to someone so clueless about humanity as Mr. Spock.

Spock tips back on his heels briefly before straightening fully. Kirk braves a look into his eyes, which are dark but also clouded. Kirk’s stomach performs a crazy fluttering dance. “I observed enough to conclude that your ultimate success was a feat worthy of celebration.”

Of course, Spock probably didn’t even notice the pattern. He wouldn’t notice the _reason_ Kirk failed all those simulations. He’s an extremely perceptive person, except in cases so involving human, illogical feeling. “Ha. Celebration,” Kirk says. He ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck, laughing and shaking his head at his own foolishness. “If you call being glared at by my sleep-deprived bridge crew for the next several days a celebration.”

Spock looks uncomfortable, as he always does. “On the contrary,” he says, voice low, “I should think most people would take comfort in your devotion to protecting the lives of your crew.”

Kirk huffs once more at that, and smiles a twisted smile. “My devotion does not… derive from _logic_ , Mr. Spock.”

“No, it is quite emotional,” Spock says, and could he possibly be leaning closer? Kirk feels warmer, which is almost always a sign of Spock’s proximity. It’s that Vulcan physique. Kirk drops the smile, tries harder to read his First Officer.

“In, addition,” he says carefully, “I think that most of them know that my devotion is, somewhat, selective.”

Spock’s arms are at his sides now, no longer crossed over his slim torso. He swallows, and it’s visible. Kirk watches his Adam’s apple bobbing, and wonders what it tastes like.

Really, it’s as though he’s striving for a new level of _pathetic_ every day.

“Then,” Spock says, “ _I_ , at least, am honored.”

“And comforted?” Kirk asks doubtfully. The space between them seems ever smaller, until suddenly, Spock is backing away.

Naturally, Kirk follow him, step for step. Once they are in the empty corridor, hidden from the doorway, Spock reaches a hand to Kirk’s shirtsleeve. Kirk’s heart stops as surely as it did every time the simulation program prompted Sulu to inform him of Spock’s immediate danger.

While Kirk is occupied by not breathing, Spock says, “It is impossible not to be moved, to some extent, after watching one’s life being saved time and time again, at no small sacrifice.”

Kirk still doesn’t breathe. Spock looks like he might flee, and the grip on the fabric beside Kirk’s wrist loosens slightly. He swallows thickly so that he can make himself say, “I would have expected reprimand from you, _Spock_.” Surely Spock can hear the same throbbing that’s filling Kirk’s ears. Surely, he has Kirk figured out.

“You completed the program, Jim, suggesting that you received enough criticism to change. That does not alter the fact that I am honored.”

“You said _moved_ ,” Kirk corrects, stupidly rushed and hopeful.

Spock says nothing, for a while. He looks to the side, while Kirk presses into the wall behind him. When Spock’s eyes flicker back to him, they’re accompanied by the words, “Regardless, I want to congratulate you. I understand that there is a custom of presenting a gift, on the occasion of a completion of a course of education.”

“You want to give me a graduation present,” Kirk says, incredulous, and also amused, and also still breathless. When he can’t read Spock, anything seems possible. And whenever he’s this close to Spock, something in his brain, or blood, renders Spock unreadable.

“Yes,” Spock says.

“A kiss,” Kirk says before his next heartbeat. “It’s usually a kiss.”

Spock doesn’t raise an eyebrow. He does say, “I was not aware,” but he releases Kirk’s sleeve and stands a bit more loosely, as if opening himself up to attack.

Kirk changes his stance as well, opening himself up even further, because any chance to get Spock’s warmth under his palms or against his chest or _between his lips_ is something Kirk would break the prime directive for.

It’s not an abrupt motion, but Kirk still doesn’t see it happening until it has happened-- until dry lips are pressed against his, loose, warm, and _Spock_ , and dear god. Spock’s lips are on his, and this is Kirk’s one chance to prove to Spock that kissing is a good thing.

He does his best-- and he’s had years of practice. It’s difficult to keep his head, though, because there’s the smell-taste-feel of _Spock, everywhere_. It’s enough to make Kirk’s lips tremble in want, enough to infuse the kiss with a sense of something fragile breaking.

Spock exhales upon Kirk’s lips, and Kirk shudders all over. This is everything he wants and more.

And for this one moment, at least, he’s having it. He closes his eyes, accepting the fact that this will die as soon as it’s born, a fleeting graduation present and nothing more than an illusion. Even ephemeral, it tastes sweeter than anything he’s felt in years.

“Jim,” Spock murmurs, his impossibly low voice the only indication that their lips are no longer touching; the closeness of their faces was so overwhelming, the loss of skin contact did not feel like the end of this kiss.

Kirk puts on a smile to hide behind. “Thank you, Mr. Spock.”

Spock does not back away. Kirk knows this is because he is paralyzed with disgust. He prepares to peel out from between Spock and the wall and make a charming getaway to the shuttle bay.

But Spock leans in again, and places a short, dry brush of his lips against Kirk’s. Then, finally, when Kirk’s just about _ruined_ , Spock pulls back. His eyelids open carefully, as if he’s afraid of seeing. There’s a look on his face that Kirk can’t read-- they’re still too close for Kirk to be able to read him.

“You’re welcome,” he says, a note of uncertainty in his voice. Then he’s walking down the corridor, his pace neither hurried nor slow.

His mind very nearly destroyed, Kirk watches him go. Just as Spock’s long legs and curved back take a turn further down the hallway, a smile finally slides onto Kirk’s face. He decides that failing the training thirty times was worth the award waiting for him afterward.

**Author's Note:**

> Update: Woahhhh, just for the record, wrote this before seeing Into Darkness, which made the story kinda (pleasantly!) redundant.  
> Graduation present for objectlesson, who loves all the times that Kirk breaks the prime directive or trashes his career in order to save Spock's life.


End file.
